loan had no idea how much the FBI knew about her father or his finances, or even what they suspected him of doing, but it seemed important to tell Paul what she'd learned. Frustrated that the information exchange was strictly a one-way street, she knocked on the door to his room. When there was no answer, she went down the hall to her room and discovered its door was locked. She rattled it. "Hello, is someone in there?" she called.

The door opened so suddenly that she stepped back and stared in confusion at Paul, who was wearing shorts and holding her paperback novel with his forefinger inserted between the pages as if to keep his place.

"My room doesn't have a balcony, so I thought I'd borrow yours and read for a while, until you came back," he explained.

Sloan knew he was lying for the benefit of anyone who might overhear them in the hall. She followed him inside and closed the door. "What are you really doing?"

"Checking for bugs. I didn't find any."

The idea of a private home being bugged by its owner seemed preposterous, and Sloan said so.

"It was just a precaution. Your father is known to be an extremely cautious man."

"Not that cautious or we wouldn't be here," Sloan joked.

"And speaking of why we're here," she added with a pleased smile, "I just had an enlightening conversation with my great-grandmother. Did you know she controls the major portion of the family money?"

"You're referring to the Hanover Trust?"

A little deflated, Sloan nodded.

"What did she tell you?"

Sloan repeated the pertinent parts of her conversation with her great-grandmother almost verbatim.

"Nothing new there," he said. "At least nothing significant You were down there quite a while, what else did she talk about?"

Sloan told him the rest, and he seemed far more pleased by it than by the information she'd thought was important. "If she wants you to spend quality time with Paris, do it. I'll hang around here and see what I can find out."

"About what?" Sloan demanded, throwing up her hand in frustration. "What do you suspect him of doing? I think I'm entitled to some sort of a minimal explanation."

"You're on a need-to-know basis. When I think you need to know, I'll tell you."

Striving to match his blasé tone, Sloan said, "And, when I have something I think you need to know, I guess we'll have to negotiate."

She expected him to react to her threat with either amusement or annoyance, but he did neither.

"There are two men in Palm Beach you never want to try to negotiate with, Sloan. I'm one of them."

"Who is the other one?" Sloan asked, taken aback by the veiled threat she heard in his voice.

"Noah Maitland. Thanks for letting me use your balcony," he said for effect as he stepped into the hall.

The door closed behind him, and Sloan slowly headed into the bathroom to take her shower.

He was completely unreadable, unpredictable, and single-minded, but there were times when he'd also seemed charming and rather kind.

Now she had an uneasy feeling that this last might be a facade.